


It Isn't Yours

by Aaronlisa



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Drug Use, Gen, Profanity, Self-Doubt, Sexist Language, Suicidal Thoughts, ethical questioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 12:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaronlisa/pseuds/Aaronlisa
Summary: He's come to a few realizations.





	It Isn't Yours

**Author's Note:**

> I find it hard to believe that someone who was playing Russian Roulette, even with an empty gun, is that happy with life or the choices that he's made.

_"Oh, boy. My head hurts when you get all existential and shit."_

He's not quite sure when things had changed. He just knows that they have and that there's some invisible thing that sets him apart from Mutt and makes them different even though Mutt isn't aware of it. Nor is Ms. Venable and nothing really ever gets past her. Then again when he thinks about it, he hasn't really changed outwardly. 

He's still some pathetic loser who somehow managed to become successful. And once upon a time he had rejoiced about the money, the coke, the youth and all of the pussy. Now it's not enough to fill the hole where his soul used to be. Now he can't look at Mutt without thinking that he's become nothing more than a hanger on who has maybe one or two good ideas every so often. 

Once he had been delighted and willing to do whatever it took to bring about the Armageddon and now he just longs for it in the hopes that he'll be dead. Even though he knows that eternal torment awaits the damned. But Jeff hopes that the torment will be enough to quiet his racing brain in a way that coding, coke, sex, and money just can't seem to do. 

The amount of cocaine that he and Mutt go through should be enough to kill him. He's pretty sure that with anyone else it'd kill them. That if he was a _normal_ person, his body would have given up due to all of the Bolivian marching powder he's snorted. His daily consumption should be enough to kill him but it barely makes him buzzed anymore. He's just glad that Ms. Venable who sneers down at them, doesn't really realize how much is too much. 

(Or maybe she doesn't care, maybe she keeps ordering more and more because she thinks he and Mutt will keel over one day and she'll be able to replace them. And if they were normal, he doesn't doubt that she'd be able to do it. But the unfortunate side of effect of selling your soul is that once you obtain those dizzying heights that you signed the dotted line for, the edge on everything just fades away.) 

Sometimes late at night when it's him in the lab, he will think about his Nana and what she used to tell him before she died. 

_You can't sell what isn't yours to sell._

He had never known what she had meant and by that point, he'd written it off to dementia because that's what the nurses and doctors had told him. At fifteen, everyone thought he was adult enough to deal with his grandmother's slow decline just because he was going to Sanford. Two years later, she'd died screaming those words at the top of her lungs over and over again. Jeff had been paralysed with fear in the corner of her bedroom trying to figure out what he should do. 

_You can't sell what isn't yours to sell. Do you hear me, boy? You can't sell what isn't yours to sell. You can't sell what isn't yours to sell. You can't sell what isn't yours to sell. Jeff promise me! You can't sell what isn't yours to sell. You can't sell what isn't yours to sell. You can't sell...._

One moment she was alive and thrashing about in the giant bed that she used to share with her husband and the next she was dead. And the next day he had met Mutt and everything had changed. Mutt had taken him to his first Black Mass, he had convinced him to sell his soul and to take what he wanted and everything had fallen into place. Nothing had mattered. 

And now it was like waking up from some sort of deep sleep. Except he can't escape the bad dream. And as much as he longs for death, he knows that he's not allowed it. He's tried so many times to just end it. The company would be okay in the hands of Mutt and Ms. Venable. There's not much else that they need to develop or design now. They're just playing around with the code, killing time until something happens. And he knows that something's going to happen. He can taste it. 

When the phone rings and it's Madelyn, Jeff is relived. _Finally_ things are happening, he can tell by her voice. Her excitement is contagious and she tells him that she is sending the son of Satan their way, it's all he can do to stop himself from falling to his knees to thank whatever deity will listen. He's tired. When the world restarts, he hopes that he won't be around to see it. 

Mutt looks at him and a moment passes and he wonders how much of what he feels is shared by Mutt. For the briefest of moments, Jeff can see the fatigue and relief in Mutt's eyes. And then Ms. Venable comes into the lab and ruins the moment. Mutt makes some sexist joke that cause Ms Venable to threaten that she'll quit (even though they all know that she won't.) And Jeff feels more alone than he has ever felt in his entire life. 

_You can't sell what isn't yours to sell._

Underneath everything, he can hear the raspy, withered tone of his Nana's voice chanting as she dies. He wants to scream that it's too late, that he can't take it back no matter how much he wants to. When Mutt passes him a bowl of cocaine, he grabs it. Maybe this time. he'll just a get a moment of quiet, a moment when his brain isn't racing around and around. Maybe he can rejoice that he'll be helping the antichrist in burning down this world once and for all. 

 

((END))


End file.
